A Dog Called Homeless: Chapters 1–16

Last year Dad's birthday was the day Mom died. I think it's called a tragedy or a catastrophe or some other big word that means more than just "bad luck" when two things like that happen on the same day.

With my arms out I went around and around. It made my hands go heavy and my eyes go giddy.

After attendance Miss Steadman told us that our school was going to raise money for a charity called Angela's Hospice.

"That’s enough bickering, Cally, Daniel," said Miss Steadman. "What other wishes do we have?" Daisy said she wished for world peace. Mia folded her arms and scowled at me.

I reached over and held Mia's arm down and shot my hand in the air. I ignored the giggles and whispers, the feet reaching out to nudge each other. I ignored Daniel Bird's loud "Ha!” and Mia’s gaping mouth.

Jessica and Harry looked at Miss Steadman, Jessica's pencil poised, not writing my name on their list. Miss Steadman shushed the murmurings and giggling and looked out the window.

"No, of course not. What I meant was you’ve had some difficult challenges. Things happen in our lives that can change us, make us unsettled.”

I stretched myself as tall as I could to see over Mrs. Brooks’s wide shoulders while she jabbered on.

His ambition is to beat someone called Sting who has the highest score.

There were big whoops from the other volunteers, coughing and gabbling like mad, saying things like "That was soooo hard" and "I almost said something when..."

We scuffled under the table, kicking each other.

The dog's ears went up, as if he had heard something, and he suddenly bounded off in big lolloping gallops, like he was in slow motion.

She varnished the window frames every year, to keep them shiny.

A car pulled up, and a lanky man got out.

The small garden at the front had a pot of sunflowers with green heads tethered to sticks; there was a small concrete yard out the back.

“I don’t have a choice," Dad snapped. “There's going to be some layoffs at work. The warehouse is downsizing."

Daisy elbowed Mia. “I thought we weren’t going to tell her we found a dog.”
Mia gritted her teeth. "No! We weren’t going to tell her we found a dog over by the gates.”

I ran, leaving Mia holding my empty gray cardigan and shrieking, "When I see it again, I’m never, ever going to tell you, ever again!"

She shifted a blue bag on the floor by the door with her foot and beckoned me in.

I stuck my hand out from under the duvet, and Dad dropped some things into it. I felt them, two flat circles of plastic with grooves all round the edge. Little cogs from a machine.